


You Never Get A Second Chance To Make A First Impression

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, First Time, M/M, Modern Day Setting, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Daniel Jackson, eccentric scholar, Egyptologist, and heir to the Ballard millions, falls for his pool guy -- who is Jack O'Neill, undercover agent! Chaos ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Never Get A Second Chance To Make A First Impression

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kuonji](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kuonji).



> This story was directly inspired by Kuonji's own hilarious story with the same premise, [](http:)Satisfaction Guaranteed.
> 
> Beta thanks to green_grrl, and to her and sid for coming up with the bunny that inspired several of us.
> 
> Written for the 2009 Jack/Daniel Ficathon on Live Journal.

Jack's hand on his cock was both careful and eager, signaling that he knew exactly what he was doing, that he was confident that Daniel would like what he did, and at the same time that he wanted to finish this without hurrying. And somehow it felt as if Jack was paying much closer attention to what he was doing to Daniel than what Daniel, mirror-image, was doing to him.

Daniel groaned and braced with his arm around Jack's shoulders, helping keep them balanced as they faced each other lying on their sides. Their legs twined, feet catching in the trailing beach towels beneath them. The slanting sunlight was red on Daniel's closed eyelids as he breathed, and moaned, and, all too soon, came, calling Jack's name, clutching him tighter even as he kept his other hand moving on Jack's cock, bringing Jack with him over the edge into orgasm.

In the afterglow, Daniel lay there, feeling the other man relax, as Daniel was relaxing, into the comfortable torpor that always followed sex. This encounter had been... amazing. Surprising. So damn good. So unexpected and yet so .... _perfect_ was too strong a word, wasn't it?

"Mm," Jack said, and kissed him, shifting their weight, hitching to a more comfortable angle on the oversized chaise. "I wanted to go down on you, there in your pool, so badly. Isn't that stupid?"

"Very," Daniel murmured, shivering a little, and pulling Jack closer. Jack must feel it too, then -- the crazy sense of connection. It was way too soon for that, too impossible, given who he was, and who Jack was. They barely knew each other!

"But this is... so nice. This is good," Jack concluded, running a warm hand across Daniel's chest.

"Your hair dries so fast," Daniel said, stupidly, he felt, but it was like this man had a force field around him, or a kind of glamour, with a powerful property of, besides filling Daniel with blissful lust, making him say whatever crazy thing popped into his head. His internal censor seemed to have left the premises, along with whatever frail sense of modesty, propriety or dignity he had claimed.

Jack chuckled. They shifted a little, a warm breeze floating between the canvas panels of the cabana and teasing their naked skin, making a pleasant contrast with the cool swimming pool from which they'd just emerged. Daniel found himself smiling in return, and he continued to run his fingers through Jack's short hair. It was salt-and-pepper, very fine on the sides, buzzed close to his skull there, then lengthening to a coarse brush on top that Daniel found it very satisfying, almost lulling, to run his fingertips across. Jack leaned, nudging Daniel's chin with his own, and kissed him again, briefly, as if thanking him for a compliment.

Feeling that he was returning to his senses after a fantastic detour, Daniel tried to collect himself. He squeezed Jack's bare shoulder and sat up. The big, comfortably firm cushions of the double-lounge hardly gave. One of his feet found the carpet. It made him feel a little more grounded.

He turned to let his hand drift down Jack's chest, where glistening drops of water were still clinging in his hair. Yes, they'd been quite hasty.

"Well," Daniel said. "Please. Come inside." He got up, suddenly conscious of his own nudity, and groped for the collection of short terrycloth robes that always hung from the back wall of the cabana. He offered one to Jack, who cocked his head, got up, and took it. Daniel shrugged into another. "Um. Have a drink. Have... I have... food. You know. In the kitchen."

Walking backward, he watched Jack, who was, with a secretive smile, belting the guest robe around his waist. Jack followed him out of the pavilion and across the concrete and up to the sliding doors of the house. As Daniel passed the still-gently-rippling pool, he noticed Jack's swim trunks and white polo shirt, draped half-over the side, where Daniel and he had flung them. Daniel definitely wanted to blame the shirt for his impetuosity. That shirt, and its beautiful simple contrast against Jack's tan, the way its color picked up his dazzling smile. As he turned to negotiate the door latch, it struck him again, like a flame licking up his spine, that Jack was still absolutely naked under the borrowed robe. He glanced back, letting his gaze run up along Jack's long, lean legs. Jack must have read his mind, because he was grinning that knowing grin.

Daniel realized this was the first time he'd invited Jack inside. They'd known each other about a week, but the location of their encounters had never seemed important before. But then, they'd never had an encounter like this until today. Daniel didn't look back, but he let the image of Jack in the robe continue to warm him, as he went through the sun room and down the hall to the kitchen.

"Beer?" Daniel said, still not looking back, when he had his face in the refrigerator. The cold air felt good. Sobering. "I have Heineken or, here, something Mexican. And white wine; this is actually quite a decent sauvignon blanc and you know how uneven those can be... Here's some tabouli from yesterday, or the rest of the frittata from breakfast; Marla makes a wonderful frittata..."

"Heineken, thanks," Jack said, his voice a low, amused rumble. Daniel turned to him. He was so off balance, drunk on sex and infatuation.

"I feel that I should apologize." Daniel handed Jack the Heineken.

"For banging the help?" Jack said, openly laughing at him now.

Daniel blushed, and his aggravation at blushing made him blush harder. "Well, yes, not to put too fine a point on it. I just... Please believe that I'm not in the habit of doing the pool guy, or the cook, or the woman who cleans, or the lawn service people."

Jack took an appreciative swig of the beer, set it down on the bar and walked back over to where Daniel was still standing by the refrigerator, babbling, and thinking maybe he shouldn't sample the sauvignon blanc, as crazy as he was acting. He'd be sharing Nick's padded cell at this rate. Daniel said, "That didn't come out right. You're not... What I mean is. The last pool guy was, oh, you know, twenty-something."

Daniel caught his breath as Jack slid cool hands into the front of his robe, which he'd neglected to knot very tightly. Jack didn't answer him in words, but kissed him, reigniting the engulfing arousal that Daniel had allowed to consume him, just now, outside.

"Doctor Jackson, you're thinking too much." And more kisses, lingering, going deeper. Daniel clutched Jack's shoulder and kissed back. "I'm not very exploitable," Jack continued, between the kisses and nips and licks. "You don't think I'm more than capable of pushing you away if I didn't want that to go exactly where it did?" And Jack took hold of his head and held it still as he kissed Daniel more deeply, more intently than he yet had.

"Oh my," Daniel said, breathless, when Jack let go of him. He was getting hard again. They stood together, leaning a little, arms loosely around each other. Jack's breaths, Daniel was gratified to note, were as harsh and ragged as Daniel's own. Daniel turned so that his forehead was resting against Jack's temple.

He'd gone out to swim today after an afternoon spent in fruitless searching through the various academic databases to which he'd most recently purchased expensive access, looking for a connection he knew he remembered between the canopic jars in the collection of the Oriental Institute and the unusual, untranslated and atypical script on that 1928 broken coverstone from Giza. He'd, once again, found nothing, and so had decided that the salve for his frustrated mind and stiff body would be twenty or so refreshing laps, before an early dinner.

When he'd gone out to his pool, he'd found Jack already in it. The new pool caretaker had been on the job for about a week, and Daniel, once he had gotten over his astonishment at being flirted with and begun flirting back, had found himself looking forward to the man's daily visits to maintain the pool and adjacent hot tub. After introductions on the first day, they had struck up a conversation, and had continued it and elaborated upon it each day after. Jack was so handsome, so articulate and funny, and such an unlikely candidate for employment by the pool service, that Daniel had found himself first intrigued, and then, frankly, attracted.

But he'd come to expect that he'd see Jack in the morning, not the late afternoon. Thus, "Sorry," Daniel had said today, when he'd stopped in surprise, and hesitated at the lip of the pool, his breath catching as it always did when he saw Jack. Jack had been standing in the shallow end, just having pulled his trademark white polo shirt over his head, exposing his tanned spine and making the muscles in his lean arms ripple. His skin was sheened with sweat.

"Hey, Doc," Jack had said. "I'm all done; just got in to cool off. But I can scram if you want a swim in private."

And Jack had stopped mid-movement, his shirt stretched over his shoulders and arms, the water lapping at the waistband of his dark suit, the ripples kissing his navel.

"No, I..." and Daniel forgot immediately what he wanted to say, mesmerized, and he had walked down the stairs and into the water, conscious of his skimpy suit, conscious of Jack's eyes on him, gripped by the immediate and overwhelming desire to peel that shirt from Jack's arms, toss it aside, and then to plunge in to the water at Jack's feet. He wanted to watch, under water, as his fingers untied the white drawstring of those navy trunks and pulled them off, too, in a cascade of silver bubbling breaths.

As Daniel's sentence had trailed off, words lost like those fleeting bubbles, they'd traded a single, long, incendiary look, and then Daniel had lost track of the sequence of events. Those events had, somehow, carried him right over to Jack, right up to Jack's delighted smile. First they had touched, tentatively, in the cool water, and finally they had ended in spectacular fashion, together, there on the outdoor sofa.

And now, in his cool kitchen, where were his manners? Daniel tried to collect himself, and petted down the warm, soft terry cloth that covered Jack's back, and breathed in a hit of the man -- chlorine and sweat and sunshine -- and gave a parting nuzzle to his neck. Then he made himself pull back.

He returned to the fridge. He got out the bottle and poured wine for himself. He pulled out the frittata and cut two wedges of it and waited while they microwaved. Jack sat at the bar and drank his beer and watched.

"Gotta keep up your strength," Daniel said, with a sidelong smile, as he put the plates down on the bar and found two forks in a drawer. He let a hand trail across Jack's shoulders as he crossed behind him to climb onto the second barstool.

They ate in silence, savoring the spices of the dish, watching the sunbeams slant across the kitchen. Jack's knee rested against Daniel's the whole time.

Then Daniel got another beer for Jack and a refill for his glass and paused. Inside, or outside?

"Outside works for me," Jack said. Too much -- it was like telepathy. Too amazing. Yet undeniable.

Daniel led the way back through the house and out, once again, to the cabana. Jack, he noticed, paused to shake out his suit, and hang it and his polo shirt over the back of a chaise lounge. Shirt and trunks were nearly dry.

Daniel dropped onto one of the sofas inside the big canvas pavilion. The towels they'd used were still there, he noticed. He'd have to bring those in later.

"I have to go soon," Jack said, sitting down beside Daniel and letting his arm rest across Daniel's shoulders. "I have one more stop to make today. But I could..."

"Come back tonight?"

"If you want," Jack said, meeting his eyes directly.

Daniel shook his head in wonder. He didn't fall for people. He didn't let himself. And this was so unlikely. He already knew Jack had done other work before deciding that odd jobs and pool maintenance would make a great parttime gig. Jack had been deliberately vague about the previous career, or why he wanted to work parttime at all, but he had an air about him that Daniel would have associated more with security or police than any academic or business profession. He was a very attractive mystery. He'd traveled to as many exotic locales as Daniel had, and spoke several languages. But Daniel felt he'd let his intellectual interest in the man become consumed in his intense attraction. He didn't know whether that was good or bad, and he didn't know how he felt about ... well, about sleeping with the pool guy. It still seemed, though Jack had denied it, exploitative. Somehow. But what Jack said was true. Regardless of the facts, Daniel felt no difference in their status.

"Please do. Just call first. I'll be up to let you in. Even if it's late."

Jack grinned, and put his hand on Daniel's knee. He savored the rest of his beer, and reluctantly got up. As he dressed, he watched Daniel watch him.

****

"This is a bad idea, Jack," Maybourne repeated, from behind the wheel of the nondescript Buick. Its color blended into the darkness. They'd pulled over two houses down from Jackson's place in Topanga Canyon.

"Hey, you'd be out here all night anyway, whether I'm inside or not, right?"

"Not the point."

"So get over it. I'll have my cell, same as always. If something breaks tonight, I'll be right there. Closer than I'd be if I were staked out on the next block."

Maybourne shook his head and sighed, unconvinced but resigned, and Jack patted the car door in farewell before he straightened. Maybourne put the window up, and Jack went back to his truck for the short drive to the house in question. Tonight, he'd be parking in the driveway instead of one street over. And Maybourne could fuck off. Yeah, it was unusual. But so was Daniel Jackson.

Jack pulled up in Daniel's driveway, stopping halfway between the street and the big garage that flanked the pool area. Daniel answered his phone after two rings. "It's me," Jack said.

"Jack?"

"Yup. In the driveway."

"I'll be right there."

Jack had changed into khaki slacks and a white cotton shirt after their surprising encounter in Daniel's pool that afternoon. It might be awkward to explain the gun in the small of his back, but he had to bring it tonight, and he figured they'd jump off that bridge when they got to it.

_Sleeping with the target. O'Neill, what's gotten into you?_

He was trying to answer his own question with something more than a muddled sense of happy inevitability, when the door opened to reveal a smiling and disheveled-looking Daniel. Jack was barely in the door before Daniel had pushed him against the wall to kiss him.

Jack smiled into the kiss, and wrapped his arms around Daniel's neck. He leaned firmly back against the wall of the foyer. Maybe Daniel wouldn't find his gun yet.

"You know," Daniel was saying, between firm, exploratory kisses, "just exactly how crazy this is."

"Yes, I do. Very crazy."

"I'm really glad you came back."

"I'm glad you wanted me to."

Daniel cupped his face for a last, lingering, 'hello' kind of kiss, and then let go and turned away, assuming Jack would follow. Jack was relieved that Daniel hadn't explored his person quite far enough to find the gun yet. He glanced around, reassuring himself that the layout of the house indeed matched the blueprints he and Maybourne and T. had studied two weeks ago at the beginning of the op.

Daniel was wearing a billowing, dark-blue robe that looked like silk. Jack could see, as he followed Daniel down the long hall that led to the bedroom wing, that it was unbelted. With a warm thrill that went straight to his dick, Jack found himself wondering if Daniel had anything at all on under it. Maybe he'd been reading in bed, waiting for Jack's call. That would explain the mussed hair. He was barefoot, too.

_O'Neill, you are certifiable._

Yeah, he was crazy. Crazy and falling. Hard. He shook himself, telling himself sternly to get a grip.

Okay. He knew where they were headed, knew what came next. Time to hide the gun. He unbuttoned his shirt with one hand and took it off as he walked, and undid the gunbelt with the other hand. Hoping Daniel wouldn't look back at the wrong moment, he quickly wrapped the holster in the belt and then in the shirt, and tucked it all under his arm.

Daniel indeed was leading him straight to his bedroom. It was enormous, situated at the end of this arm of the L-shaped house, and featured a set of doors that opened on the pool. One little lamp sent a spill of light across the rumpled bed. There was a pile of open books, and a cell phone atop a closed laptop. Daniel bent to move the clutter, and yeah, he was naked under that robe. Jack smiled, and quickly stooped to put his shirt and its secret cargo under the edge of the bed opposite Daniel. He stood up to see Daniel shrugging out of his robe and letting it fall from his shoulders to the floor, and then Jack swallowed as Daniel put one knee on the bed, then the other. He climbed across, toward Jack. He was gorgeous, like an art model kneeling there, his erection on careless display, his hands on his thighs. He had no tan line. His skin was like buttered toast. Jack's hands stuttered to a halt at the hem of his undershirt.

"A wifebeater. How old fashioned," Daniel said, a sultry, distracted- sounding criticism. Jack sucked in a breath before he got lightheaded from looking at the guy. Daniel turned to toss his glasses to the nightstand behind him. "Don't let me interrupt you," he said, smiling, apparently prepared to simply watch Jack undress, sitting there on his heels, his erection jutting boldly up. So Jack slowed it down, squaring his shoulders and holding that smoldering gaze as he stripped out of the rest of his clothes. He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning when Daniel absently started stroking his own dick as he watched.

Jack got on the bed, and walked on his knees to Daniel, bringing their bodies together before reaching, going for the kiss first and then sliding his palms around Daniel's broad shoulders. He closed his eyes. Daniel's skin was like sunlight. Daniel kissed him greedily, messily, his uncertainty of earlier in the day apparently forgotten.

****

Through his distracted dinner, abbreviated, choppy research, his weekly scheduled phone conversation with Sarah about the progress in Egypt, and another swim, followed by a shower, Daniel had just about talked himself out of it.

Lying in bed, switching back and forth between the databases and his books, revisiting all the background on Osiris he could find, Daniel had become quite sure that Jack wouldn't call.

When the phone rang at ten, his heart started to pound. It didn't really slow down at all for quite a while, not when he spoke to Jack, not when he got up to go to the door, not when he waited in the middle of his usually lonely bed and watched Jack undress.

He closed his eyes, unbelieving, trying to make it real, to sink into the moment, when Jack kissed him and pulled him close. Their cocks brushed, making Daniel groan into Jack's mouth, and then Jack was holding him close, then closer, then was plastered tightly against him, melting warmth in the press of their erections.

Jack groaned, too, a reluctant, amazed sound, and Daniel freed his mouth to look at Jack, overwhelmed, and finally starting to believe it.

He grinned, and brought Jack down with him to lie on the bed. Jack pulled him close again, kissing him and groping along his body to close a warm fist around Daniel's cock.

Will and conscious thought deserted Daniel. He clung to Jack's shoulders and thrust into his grip, kissing him and moaning. They struggled together, not a battle of wills or an attempt at domination so much as a futile struggle to crawl into each other's skin. Mostly on their sides, they also took turns rolling atop each other, and the intent kissing went on and on until Daniel was half crazy.

Fetched up on their sides again, Jack cupped his jaw, his kisses turning soft and sweet, and Daniel smiled into them. He reached for Jack's erection, smoothing his thumb through the wetness at the tip, then he hitched his hips closer and gathered both erections in his grip.

"Oh, god, Daniel," Jack said, and covered Daniel's hand with his own. His mouth went lax and his head sank into the pillow, as if he couldn't keep his neck muscles taut.

Daniel slowly, firmly, stroked both erections, Jack's hand tracking his all the way up and all the way down. He pushed, getting an elbow under himself so that he could find Jack's neck with his teeth.

Jack groaned again, and his hand tightened on Daniel's.

"Not long now," Daniel gasped against his neck. "So good. Jack..."

And then they were coming, together, holding each other close, everything blurring into a smear of pleasure that was almost too much, too sweet.

"God, Jack," Daniel said, and Jack's hand squeezed his one more time.

****

"Can you stay?" Daniel asked, sleepily, twining his leg around Jack's, pulling him closer. After their massively messy and overwhelming orgasm, Daniel had bestirred himself to stumble into the master bath and bring back a warm towel to scrub both of them. He'd taken it back into the bathroom, and then fallen once again into Jack's waiting arms. It was very cold and lonely and unpleasant without Daniel in the bed. He had no idea where the duvet had gotten to, but with Daniel back next to him, he didn't care.

He kissed Daniel's cheekbone. "Would you like me to?"

"Very. Stupid. Question," Daniel said, punctuating each word with a kiss to Jack's mouth.

"All righty then," Jack said, and he turned, feeling sloppy and sleepy, snuggling his back up to Daniel's front, and was deeply unconscious almost immediately.

Only to be awakened by the insistent, shrill signal of his cell phone. It was in his pants, on top of his shirt and gun under the side of the bed. Adrenaline flared, because it was not a ring. It was the alarm tone he'd assigned to Maybourne.

Jack was out of bed in a flash, yanking the phone out of its pocket and pulling his pants on with one hand even as he pulled up the text-message screen. He honestly had not thought it would be tonight. All the intel they had had said another week or so, at the earliest.

_"Now,"_ he read off the little screen, and the originating number was Maybourne's. Jack swore under his breath and dropped the phone back in his pocket. He hastily fastened his belt, and knelt to get his gun, not bothering to put on shoes or find his shirt. "Now" meant now.

"What is it," Daniel said, still sleepy, his head still on his pillow, looking confused rather than upset.

Jack reached out and put his hand on Daniel's elbow. This would be hard. He hoped for the best. "A very long story that starts in the worst possible way. With those awful and much-abused words: 'You've got to trust me.' " Daniel frowned and sat up, but he turned his hand to grasp Jack's. Jack was still holding the gun, concealed under the side of the bed. He'd shaken it free of the shirt. "Don't turn on the light. Get dressed," Jack said.

"What--"

"I'll explain while you get dressed. We don't have much time."

Daniel's frown deepened, but he let go of Jack's hand and rolled out of bed on the far side. He did as instructed. There were clothes on a nearby chair.

Jack tried to marshal his thoughts. "I wasn't supposed to fall for you, okay? But I apparently have. I've been undercover here, on an assignment. I'm just pretending to be your cabana boy. There's a special ops team staking out your house tonight, to interrupt some antiquities thieves who are on the way here, right now."

"Oh my God. The Eye of Ra." Daniel had yanked a pair of jeans on, and stood poised, obviously thinking fast.

Jack smiled, and he brought his hand up, letting Daniel see the gun. "I figured you'd already know what they wanted."

Daniel jerked his head around, to look outside. All the outdoor lights had gone out. Jack glanced the other direction at the master bathroom door, where the light, which Daniel had left on, had gone out too.

Daniel hissed, "We'll leave the part where you explain what the fuck you were thinking, not telling me, until you catch them, yes?"

Before Jack could agree, Daniel bent and grabbed his glasses and put them on, and then slid open a nightstand drawer. The moonlight gleamed on a weapon. From the shape, it looked like a nine-millimeter. Jack smiled. Yeah, maybe this would work out all right.

Daniel took the safety off and chambered a round. Then he stood still, poised and listening. Jack stayed in his crouch, but rounded the bed, on his feet, to get closer to Daniel. He was about to tell Daniel the plan when, "Decoy," Daniel whispered sharply, and all thoughts Jack had had that he was in any way in control of this op vanished. Jack frowned.

Daniel stuck his gun in the back waistband of his jeans and turned toward the hall, creeping quietly but staying on his feet, not crouching or crawling.

Jack swore internally.

He waited till Daniel was out of sight, then moved until he himself was out of the lines of sight from the window and the french doors. Then Jack stood up, into a patch of shadow, putting his back to the open bedroom door. He strained his hearing. Slowly, the buzz that wanted to push into his ears, from his misplaced adrenaline, faded. He could hear Daniel's soft footsteps.

He heard an electronic beep, two, cut off abruptly. He frowned. Then, a tink of breaking glass.

"Who's there?" Daniel said sharply. His voice was close. By the echoes, he was facing away from Jack, but still in the hallway. Daniel hadn't told him this, but Jack knew that the jewel the robbers were after was in a safe in the second bedroom. Which was not a bedroom at all, but Daniel's study. It had one window and no exterior doors. It was two doors down, on the same side of the hall as the master bedroom.

Jack glanced at the french doors. The night was silent. No sirens, no lights. Maybourne and Carter would, if all was going well, be getting the drop on the getaway driver right about now. The only question was, were there two inside guys, or one? Jack was betting on one.

He eased into the hall, keeping his back to the wall. Daniel was facing into the study door, aiming his gun into the room. There was dim light coming out of the study, spilling into the hallway, reflecting coldly from Daniel's glasses.

_Sig Sauer,_ Jack thought. _Nice._

"Doctor Jackson," came a voice from the bedroom. "Put the gun down, and no one has to get hurt."

"Standoff," Daniel said calmly, his aim unwavering.

Jack crept closer.

"Look," the voice said, just as calmly, switching to Egyptian-accented Arabic. "You're not ready for this. You're not going to shoot me. You know it, and I know it. So just put the gun down, and no one will get hurt here."

"What makes you so sure I won't shoot you?" Daniel said in the same language, his accent, of course, flawless. He was still calm, still just standing there, his form perfect, his two-handed grip on his weapon as steady as a rock, and Jack was close enough now to roll sideways, landing on his left foot and kneeling, acquiring his target even as Daniel rolled left, away from the door.

The guy in the bedroom and Jack pulled their triggers at the same time, but the robber was aiming at where Daniel used to be, and Jack was aiming for the robber's shoulder.

Jack didn't miss.

****

Maybourne had indeed rolled up the getaway driver, and Carter had crept up on the guy who'd cut the phone lines and the security system power and the electricity, intercepting him neatly inside the garage and knocking him out with a blow to the head.

After the ambulance had taken off with the inside man, who would, Maybourne had concluded somewhat regretfully, live to be deported, Jack was back in Daniel's kitchen. He was still barefoot, and he still had no shirt.

They kinda matched, Jack thought ruefully. Jack in khakis, Daniel in jeans, both of them with nine-mil's jammed into the backs of their waistbands.

Daniel, with his jaw set and a glitter in his eye, was making coffee.

When the machine was hissing and spitting like an angry cat, Daniel grunted and took his gun out of his waistband, checked the safety, and put it on the counter.

He sighed.

Jack braced himself.

"I'm a little upset that your team had come up with a plan that used me as a decoy, without giving me any advance warning."

"Yeah," Jack said. Once he'd gotten to know Jackson, he'd argued for bringing him in, and been outvoted. He considered saying that, but decided it was all water under the bridge now, and it would sound way too self-serving, under the circumstances. "That's what you meant, then. When you said that in the bedroom. You were just repeating the original plan back to me. Going with it."

Daniel rounded on him. "Yes." He folded his arms. His jeans rode low on his hips. Jack swallowed. Even with everything that had happened, the deception, the shooting, he couldn't deny what this guy did to him. Made him feel.

"The hookup was real. It wasn't part of the plan," Jack said. "I caught hell from the team for that, you can be sure." It was so, so important that Daniel believe him. He bit down on his back teeth and tried not to sound whimpery. But it was so important. His eyes were probably pleading. He cleared his throat. The coffee smelled wonderful.

Daniel took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. The appliance continued its hissing progress behind him. Jack eyed it longingly. It was going on for four a.m.

Still rubbing his eyes, not looking at him, Daniel said, "Who are you, really."

"Colonel Jack O'Neill. Retired. Former Special Forces, Air Force. I mostly freelance now."

Daniel carefully put his glasses on the counter and folded his arms again. He said, "So, you got to come watch for bad guys and clean my pool at government expense for a week or so? While you staked out my Eye of Ra?"

"Pretty much, yeah. The only way to get these guys was to catch them in the act. This was a joint thing; FBI, Interpol, kind of a goodwill thing for Egypt."

"They are really leaning on the U.S. and France to return various antiquities." Daniel sounded thoughtful.

"Exactly," Jack said.

"There are six Eyes of Ra, you know. I only own one."

"And you bought it perfectly legitimately. I'm sure."

Daniel glared at him, but he didn't seem to want to take the bait. The coffee was ready. Daniel turned to pull a mug out of the cupboard.

Jack got up from the bar and dared to come and stand next to Daniel as he poured.

"I usually drink mine black," Jack ventured.

Daniel looked at him, and he didn't frown, but he did purse his lips. It made Jack want to kiss him. He pulled a second cup out of the cupboard.

"How American of you," he said, drily.

"And you're cream, extra sugar, right? Closer to Turkish coffee whenever possible."

Daniel shook his head, but there was a smile trying to form at the corners of his mouth. The urge to kiss him was intense. Daniel doctored his coffee, just as Jack had described.

"Come on, Daniel. Forgive me. All's well that ends well."

Daniel looked at him over the rim of his mug.

"It's a long time until breakfast yet," he said, sounding thoughtful.

"Hours," Jack said, encouraging, trying not to smile.

"You should have plenty of time to make it all up to me. The lying. The deception. The risking my life."

"Plenty of time," Jack said, and put his mug on the tile. Daniel's lips were soft and sweet. Better than the coffee. Definitely.

end.


End file.
